Discontent
by tahwekilelohcin
Summary: But fighting for the common good can have its depressing days. And on days like those, the two would try to drown their sorrows with a bottle of firewhiskey. Thus continues the night of discontent.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em... but I'd take 'em if you were handing them out!

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And he finally bridges the gap that's seemingly been between the two of them since that fateful day. He knows from experience she's far too proud to be the first one to make such a move, but also that she's too afraid --of what the future might hold without him in her life-- to move away. It took ages to get to this point; the point of giving in and letting go of all of his pride. And she always has seemed like this unbreakable fortress, unwavering no matter what presents itself to her. So he's surprised to see when he gets within arms' distance from her, that her bottom lip is quavering. It's in that moment that he knows. Knows that they weren't able to train all of her emotions away.

He reaches his left hand out to her, gently cupping her chin. Now that his moment has come, he can't find the words.

Finally she speaks, "I was waiting for you."

He breaks out into a ridiculous smile, before finally finding his words, "I'm sorry it took me so long."

And she throws herself into his arms, burying her head into his chest. And when such a motion used to make his heart ache, now all it does is make him feel completely whole.

"And they lived happily ever after."

Wait. Wait, wait, wait!

Okay, do I have your attention now? Cripes, you can't start a story off like that. No one wants just the happy ending without any of the story attached.

Well, do you?

I didn't think so.

Okay, so there's this magical school, right? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You might've heard of it before. You know, a few times, _at least_. And there were these amazing kids who all attended the school. It's also important to know that this school was a bit like boarding school. Okay, so it was pretty much JUST like boarding school, only with, you know, wands and magic and mysterious creatures. And while some people might try to get you to believe that all those kids were just the same as you and me, that's not really true. At all.

See, their world (the one of magic and wonder and... uh, super stuff like that) was preparing itself for the next Great War. Capital letters and all. This was serious stuff. And new people were taking sides on a daily basis.

And while you might think a magical war could be ended much faster than one filled with weaponry and nuclear tactics, you're wrong. They knew this thing could very well last decades. They knew their children (who were yet to even exist) may end up living during this war as well.

So, where during the last war, people were going off and getting married as quickly as they could, trying to bring up their families as quickly as possible, trying to live their own lives to the fullest before they were over, this generation did exactly the opposite. Wizards and witches alike were swearing off relationships, canceling engagements, labeling ideas of starting a family as absurd and completely inappropriate. After all, they had seen what the last war did to their parents, they knew what it was like growing up in the afterglow of something as big as that war had been. And they were not going to put their own children through that.

And there were two kids in particular, right? Two kids who had always been perfect for each other -- well, when they weren't biting each other's heads off -- but had never gotten around to being together. So when the war hit, they shrugged off their relationship altogether. More of a "Wow, aren't we lucky we didn't bother starting anything there, yeah? That'd just make all of this so much more complicated. And we don't NEED anymore of those complications, thank you very much."

And they vowed to be best friends forever, fighting together to save the world they loved so much -- even if it meant dying to do so -- if it was for the common good, then they'd do it. Someone deserved the future that no one had been given in two generations.

But fighting for the common good can have its depressing days. And on days like those, the two would try to drown their sorrows with a bottle of firewhiskey. They didn't care if it wasn't the proper way to handle things, they weren't expecting to live much longer. And if there's no tomorrow, then that means there really aren't any repercussions for the things you do. Well, within reason anyway.

So, yeah, they were doing shots of firewhiskey at two in the morning while listening to the wireless -- every time the reporter says "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," you take a shot. However, it was a slow news night and His name had been mentioned (or not mentioned, depending on how you look at it) just four times in an hour.

With a sigh Ron Weasley let his frame fall against the arm of the sofa from his place on the hardwood floor in front of an old battered hickory coffee table, focusing on the ceiling while stating, "This game sucks."

And Hermione, who never really could hold her liquor, replied, "It was your idea to play. And now I'm trashed and you're still sober. How is that fair?"

After she finished speaking, she slid a little bit further down the side of the couch, her head resting on the cushions, as it lolled to the side, a questioning look still playing across her face.

Ron pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in a well,-fuck-it kind of way before grabbing the bottle and taking a big swig.

Hermione's lips twisted into a sort of smile before she mumbled, "That's more like it. It's lonely being the only drunk."

Serious blue eyes caught her dilated brown ones, "You're not a drunk, Hermione. We're simply... simply..." he trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Drunks?" she supplied.

He shook his head, "No. We're simply just coping in our own way."

She gave this some thought before seemingly accepting this answer, "And what a way it is. Thank you, old Mr. Ogden, for your fine firewhiskey!"

Ron silently nodded as his mind finally started drifting away.

Hermione suddenly sat up, reaching for his arm, proclaiming, "We have to write him a thank-you note, Ron."

He frowned as he half-yawned, "Right now?"

She began to nod as she made to stand up, only ending up stumbling a bit before finding her place once again on the floor, albeit slightly closer to Ron. She pursed her lips, "Well, maybe not right now. Just remind me to do it tomorrow, okay?"

He stared at the wall as he replied, "We're busy tomorrow, remember? Fighting evil and whatnot. No time for thank-you notes. No time for quidditch. No time for anything other than waiting to die."

And even though she knew it was true, it still hurt to hear him say it so plainly. She moved to his side, clutching at his arm, pleading, "Don't say things like that, Ron. Please, don't."

And if it were anyone else in the world he would just tell them to sod off. He really would. But it's not anyone else in the world, it's Hermione. His Hermione. Only, you know, not. And not his Hermione because of this stupid, fucking war.

And he's just SO tired of it.

And he knows that Harry's sick of it too. Ron doesn't know how Harry's been able to cope with this sort of feeling his entire life. He really doesn't. The guy has given up everything --except his two closest friends-- just so he can serve a higher purpose. And Ron would admire Harry for it if it weren't so damn sad.

He drifted back to the present only to find Hermione asleep on his shoulder. She made a shitty drunk, but it was just another one of the things he adored about her.

He took another long drink from the bottle and stared blankly at the wall, light from the fireplace dancing across it. And he sighed -- just a little -- before closing his eyes to drift off to sleep.

So that's the Meant-To-Be couple. And while this story used to have two sets of Meant-To-Be couples, one was extracted after the death of a great wizard and before the perilous journey began.

Yeah, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. You see, Ginny had been infatuated with Harry since... well, forever. Before she knew him, even. And all because he was some sort of legend/hero/savior in her world of magic. And he had always just seen her as a little sister. Until his sixth year and her fifth, that is. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks, and he knew Ginny was the one for him.

But an old cliché came into play "if you love someone, you let them go." But it had a new back story to it on that day -- he loved her so much he had to let her go because if he hadn't, she would've ended up dead.

And now, despite the fact he's out there in the world, accomplishing just what he's always been destined to do, he feels very empty and alone.

He thinks about Hermione and Ron, hoping that they're all right tonight. He hates leaving them alone in that place, knowing that whenever he does they just sit on the floor in the sitting room, getting utterly sloshed.

A soft hand running down his left arm brings him out of his thoughts. He turns his head to the raven haired woman lying next to him underneath the light green sheets, giving her a questioning gaze.

She whispers, "You just looked so very far away."

He realizes there's a lump in his throat.

And he doesn't reply to her, because all he can think is how this is not how things were meant to be.

_Supposed to be_, maybe -- but not how they were meant to be.

She doesn't say anything more to him. She knows what he's thinking just by the look on his face. And, what's more, she agrees with him. She knows this isn't how things should be.

For example, by all rights she should be underground with the other Death Eaters. Well, if Draco hadn't royally pissed off the Dark Lord and gotten himself... Wait, no. No, she is NOT thinking about this right now. She's just not.

But she does a little bit, anyway: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. A likely couple, one that was prearranged to happen, even. It was only luck that they happened to actually enjoy each other's company.

Well, maybe enjoy each other's company was a stretch. They had a mutual respect for each other, and she had long since accepted that he'd do his very best to keep her safe always.

And he always had.

And somewhere along the messy path that was their relationship, her respect turned into something a little more along the lines of love. Blame it on being foolish, blame it on just being a girl -- either way, it still had existed. And just might still linger in the recesses of her mind to this very day.

And Potter? Well, Potter was Draco's antithesis. There wasn't much more to it other than that, really. They just sort of had fallen together.

The day had been sunny, and she remembers having cursed the sun because nothing should be able to shine so brilliantly when her world was crashing in around her. Especially since she couldn't simply wallow over it in her bedroom in her parent's home, she had to be out -- walking, no less, because the Ministry was now keeping track of all apparations -- going to the predetermined checkpoint for the predetermined drop-off of their newest information. And she just couldn't shake the feeling of utter insecurity now that Draco wasn't around to watch her back anymore. And Potter had just been there. It really could be that simple, so that's what they let it be.

And as the sun rose that morning, the discontent in both houses reached a new point. But everyone knew there was nothing to be done about it. Not today, anyway. And not tomorrow, either. Some day, far off into the future. That would be the day when things would once again be right.


End file.
